Lento Con Gran Espressione (Before the End)
by M.L. Fox
Summary: "This was what peace felt like, this quiet moment with nothing but the rain, tea, and both of them wrapped in each other." – 1979. James and Lily spend a quiet Halloween night at home.


**Lento Con Gran Espressione (Before the End)**

Lily stared out of the rain-spattered window with a melancholic expression.

Was it the rain? Each drop resembled amber. Before meeting the ground they caught the light of the lanterns, shining a fiery orange in a millisecond. These imitation ambers formed a patterned sheet on the glass, distorting her vision as she peered at the streets. Maybe not being able to see everything contributed to her discomfort. Maybe she wanted to see everything… or nothing at all.

She sighed. Perhaps it was the season. Autumn was truly here; the once deep green of the trees had turned orange, red, and brown—the perfect palette to Godric Hollow's quaint and rustic appearance. It announced the death of summer, of all things warm and free. Dead leaves covered the cobble footpath, crushed underneath the soles of the village's populace. Some, fragile as they were, desperately clung onto the barren trees—neither wind nor abuse shook them… but it was no use. No hope. Tonight's rain would be enough for their downfall.

It was picturesque… if a little morbid. Lily sighed again. Why was she feeling this way?

The sight of two little girls crossing the street dressed as plump, bright orange pumpkins saved Lily from answering the question. Fingers sliding across her flat abdomen, she smiled and watched them waddle their way to one of the cottages. It'd be nice if she could make costumes for the little one. Her smile dimmed. It was a stupid thought, and she was rubbish at crafts and sewing… but if given the chance, she was willing to learn.

"Trick or treat."

Lily looked away from the window just in time to glimpse the top of James' head as he ducked to kiss her belly. Then he straightened and gave her a proper kiss. She smiled against his lips, arms circling around his neck. Pain squeezed her chest in a vice-like grip and somehow tears pushed at the back of her eyes, threatening to spill over. Suddenly, she wanted to collapse and cry out whatever it was inside of her that caused her pain, but she didn't want to alarm James. Instead, she held her husband tighter, comforted when he squeezed her waist in return.

"I take it that was a treat," she sighed after pulling away.

"How do you know it's not a trick?" James teased, winking.

"A trick?" she said, raising her brows in challenge. However, at the next instant her expression fell in recognition and horror. She cupped his face in her hands and searched deeply into his hazel eyes. " _Bugger_ , not again! Frank?"

James' cocky expression blanked and his skin paled. " _What_?"

She continued to stare for a few seconds more before amusement broke through. She laughed quietly. "Trick."

His eyes widened. Then he closed them with a sigh as his shoulders sagged. "You sly devil."

"Got you, didn't I?" she winked.

"You definitely did," he grumbled, nuzzling the inside of her palm.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but…" she chuckled again and kissed his cheek.

"Right, you miscreant, tea and pasties on the table." James took her hand and led her to the couch, where two steaming mugs of tea and a small plate of pasties sat waiting on the coffee table. "Eat before you wither away."

"How were they?" Lily asked, sitting as she took the mug James handed to her.

"Brilliant."

She beamed at his thumbs up. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely." He picked up a pasty and took a big bite. "Makes me want to learn, actually."

"To cook?" she said in surprise. " _Really_?"

He blushed. "Y-yeah. Well. Can't have you be the only one doing it all the time, eh?"

The melancholy stirring inside of her made way for the warmth brought by his words. She could imagine it: James proudly wearing an apron, nose and glasses smudged with flour and butter as he concentrated too hard on mixing the ingredients. James showing off and boasting when he succeeded, inspiring him to do more and better the next time. _James cooking with their child_. It was a lifting image, but at the same time her heart ached with the knowledge that right now such idyllic happiness had no place. She hid her despair by pulling James' pasty towards her and stealing a bite. "I'll teach you."

"Will you?"

"Of course." She took another pasty off the plate and nibbled the edges. "And when the baby's here and all grown we can all cook together—that's what Petunia and I used to do, you know… cook with our mum."

"Did you?"

"Hmmm," she smiled sadly. "We loved to bake. It was one of the rare times we didn't argue because mum told us what to do. No matter what, though, we always licked the spoons clean while she finished everything else."

"Sounds lovely."

Lily nodded, staring at the pasty in her hand. "It was. Idyllic, you know, but it was perfect."

"You know, Lily… we can always try again."

James' warm hands held hers. She looked at him. "With Petunia?"

He squeezed. "Yeah. Perhaps when this is all over we can go visit her again."

Then he smiled at her. She wanted to return it. Desperately. She wanted to share in his hope, perhaps even dare to believe that there was even a hint of a possibility in his suggestion. She wanted to… but she couldn't. Though she wished otherwise she couldn't mistake the look on her sister's face the last time they met… the heartfelt contempt that never disappeared ever since they were young and she discovered her magic. She caressed his jaw. "I doubt it," she said, "I think we're just… we're just too different now. Too different and broken to be repaired."

"Oh, love, don't say that." He leaned into her touch. "I reckon she just needs more time. People do stupid things when they're angry."

She took a big breath and nodded before dropping her hand and looking away. "Maybe."

Silence greeted her words. She felt James' eyes boring into her; he must have suspected that there's something wrong with her. However, nothing changed in the way he held her hands—he barely even moved. The urge to explain compelled her, but at the same time she knew she'd feel silly blurting her heart out to him, especially when he already knew what was bothering her. It was the same thing every minute of every day. She'd sound like a broken record. No one knew better than James the situation they were in and no one knew better than her how it affected him as well. If she revealed her own despair it would make everything seem all that more hopeless. He was trying his bloody best to stay strong. She should do so as well.

"Right," James said. She looked at him when he took her mug and placed it on the coffee table. He then scooted on the far side of the couch and pulled her to him. She settled in between his thighs and leaned onto his chest with a sigh. He wrapped his arms around her and propped his cheek against her head. She rested her temple against the cushion and held onto his arms. "I, too, have memories of cooking with my mother," he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

She smiled and stroked his arms. "Did you?"

"Yes—though, it only ever ended in two ways."

"Oh, do tell."

"Well, either my stupid arse nearly burns the house down or I sneak some of the food away before it even had the chance to cool."

She chuckled, imagining a young James so excited to do anything that he accidentally set things on fire. That's who he was—always a hundred percent effort in anything that he did for good reasons and bad reasons alike. "I assume you only outgrew being a fire hazard."

"Excuse you; I behave myself very well now."

"James," she squeezed his arm, "you still sneak food away."

"Do I, Evans? _Do I_?"

"You did it when I was making the pasties!" she snorted. "You ate them, while they were piping hot, and cried to me about it."

"Don't be mistaken, it wasn't because of the pain that I was crying."

" _Oh, really_?"

"Yeah. It's because I couldn't taste anything."

"Because you probably burned your tastebuds off."

"Obviously not since I just told you that the pasties were brilliant."

She rolled her eyes, but beamed. "You are a _moron_."

"Yes, but I am _your_ moron."

"That you are."

Silence fell once again. It was the comfortable kind, one that Lily was not keen to break. As James began playing with her hair, her mind couldn't stop conjuring up images of the future—not just James in the kitchen with their child, but everything else. Family outings… going to zoos and parks… milestones, seeing all of their child's firsts… watching them grow, seeing them off to Hogwarts, feeling that pride as they become everything she and James hoped them to be. It was a life she was so eager to live that if she could skip through the war and get to the part where they finally lived this life she'd take it. At the same time, she felt selfish for feeling so. War waged just outside their door. Right now their comrades were in every corner of the country fighting for the freedom of the Wizarding World. Yet… here she was. With James. Inside her own world selfishly thinking about the future as if the war had already been won. The world had punished people for less. How could she deal with things if something bad happened because of her carelessness? Because she wanted everything? Did she have the power to protect her family from the war? From herself?

But then… if she were to hide from the real possibility of the war turning in their favour then that would really destroy all hope, right? Though it was natural to prepare for the worst case scenario it was always, always better to think of living. The future was in that thought just as it was inside of her. One thing she was certain of was that as long as she continues to fight for that future everything would be okay. It had to be. There would be more Halloweens to celebrate after this. Perhaps she could make a costume for her child as well—not just pumpkins, but exhaust every page of Scamander's bestiary. She just had to fight a little longer. A little more and they'd reach that future.

"When I was looking out," Lily finally spoke, "I saw the Hastings girls."

"Let me guess…" James drawled.

"Don't start—"

"Pumpkins. Again. Just like last year and the year before and the year before that and it will be again next year."

Though Lily grinned, she smacked James lightly. "Oh, stop whinging—"

James poked her side and she squeaked at the ticklish feeling. "It's legitimate criticism."

"How so?"

"The Hastings imported their blasted Halloween tradition from America—put their daughters in fancy dress and have them beg the neighbours for sweets and everything." He huffed out a sigh. "The least those girls deserve are some variety in their costumes. Pumpkins, my fat arse. Are they wizards or no?"

"To be fair, though," she replied, "they do look adorable still, waddling about all plump."

"I suppose," he grumbled, "but that's why they deserve better."

"Hmmm…" Lily intoned. "You know, when I was looking at them I was thinking that I should learn how to sew,"

"Really?" James kissed her cheek. "Why sewing?"

"It'd be fun to put the baby in a costume… or in anything, really." Lily unwound his arms from around her so she could play with his hands. "No magic. Just my hands."

"How come?"

"More personal, I feel."

"Yeah, that makes sense." He kissed the top of her head and laced his fingers through hers, squeezing gently. "You'll be the best mum."

"Oh, I know." Lily looked up at James. "You'll be fine too, I reckon."

"Aw, thank you." He grinned, waggling his brows. "Just one thing, though."

"What?"

"No pumpkins, yeah?"

She pouted. "But pumpkins are cute."

He shook his head. "No. None of that. We should beat the Hastings on their own game. Turn our baby into a dragon or something—or a niffler! Nifflers are equally as adorable."

"Nifflers _are_ cute…"

"Yeah, and then the little tyke can nick the lollies off the Hastings girls—"

"Godric, that is terrible!" Lily smacked James' arm again. "Just for that we'll be joining those girls one Halloween—"

"Merlin, spare me—"

She nudged him. "Come on, it will be fun. We can also start handing sweets out."

"Yeah? And who'll be doing that if we're out with the girls?"

Lily hummed. "The boys?"

"No," James said flatly. "No. Sirius would eat all the sweets and leave none for the children. Poor Pete and Remus would have to babysit him _and_ do all the work."

"Mary, then?"

"That would be fine," he said slowly, "except that Mary's quite weak when it comes to Sirius. Then we're back to my first point about the boys."

"Right, I know what you're doing." Lily reached up and poked James' nose. "You're not getting out of this."

James grinned unapologetically. "Fine, but I stand by my previous demand."

"Which was?"

"No pumpkins."

Lily sighed exaggeratedly. "Okay. No pumpkins."

"Niffler."

"I'll consider it."

"Then we have a deal."

Lily giggled and James laughed along with her. Then silence fell between them again. Outside, the rain continued to pour—no longer a drizzle, but a deluge so strong that Lily heard the faint _shhh_ as a continuous sheet fell upon Godric's Hollow. She could barely see out the window now, the rainwater now resembled lava underneath the lamplights. The air in the living room still contained a hint of buttery pastry, apples, and pumpkins. Steam no longer rose in curls from their barely touched tea, but the scent of earl grey was still there. The temperature was chilly, but in James' arms she was warm and safe. This was what peace felt like, this quiet moment with nothing but the rain, tea, and both of them wrapped in each other. She was only twenty years old. Barely she had seen the world, but already witnessed too much of war. Still, she decided to strive for this peace—not only for her sake and the sake of her country, but also for the sake of the child just starting to grow inside of her… so that years in the future they may also experience such peace.

"Feel better?" James whispered.

Lily smiled, sagging against him in relief. "Yeah."

"You know, I still can't believe it won't be just the two of us next Halloween."

Her lids began to grow heavy. Still, she mulled over his words. "That's okay… isn't it?"

"More than okay!" he laughed. She looked at him. He wore a grin that reached his eyes, where absolute happiness sparkled within. He then kissed her forehead and cheek before reaching her lips. He kissed her slowly—as if they had all the time in the world, because this moment was just for the two of them. "It's perfect."

Something about those two words resonated within Lily. Though their lives were dark right now, riddled with danger, there was nothing wrong with _this_. It was right in every way. Next year, there would be three of them—a family. James would learn to cook. She'd learn to sew. Years down the line they'd join the Hastings and have their friends in their home celebrating with them. Beyond that… just happiness. Together. As a family.

It was absolutely, utterly perfect.

* * *

 **Notes:**

1\. Happy Halloween!

2\. Thought I'd write a little something for James and Lily for their death anniversary. Something simple and delicate. I love little quiet moments, exploring the emotions within and between characters during it. A hopeful (if a little touched with melancholia) James and Lily is a good thing to think about during their death anniversary.

3\. The title means "slowly, with great expression". It's tempo instructions, but if you Google it Chopin's 20th Nocturne comes up, which is my inspiration music for the story. When I first thought of the story, Tamaki's Nocturne from Ouran High popped into my head, but for what I wanted the music had too much hope in it (ha). So I looked for something that was melancholic, but just had a hint of light and hope underneath. The 20th Nocturne inspired me so I thought I'd borrow the title.

That's it! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.


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